


Sweeter From My Hand

by Mikkeneko



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Day At The Beach, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Mage Rebellion, Party, Weddings, background carver/merrill and past isabela/anders, not even a hint of angst, this is literally the sappiest thing I've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: Even on the run from the law, busy tearing down the Circles, there's still time for a day at the beach and a good wedding party.





	Sweeter From My Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Heinrippy as part of the 2017 Handers Secret Satinalia challenge. The prompt was for a Hawke/Anders wedding.

 

Afternoons on these northern shores stretched on forever, the sun slanting across hundreds of miles of open sea. The long sunlight gave the partygoers plenty of time to gather everything together, make the preparations and throw one hell of a wedding party. 

Technically, the wedding had been done earlier. Technically. A ship's captain at sea had the power to officiate, and they'd been at sea on the _Siren's Fury_   for the last six months, waging a harassment campaign against the Chantry supply routes and amassing their own store of pilfered lyrium on the side. Every drop they stole away from the Chantry weakened the Templar forces, and strengthened their own: lyrium for the mage rebels to cast, lyrium for their own growing force of disaffected Templar defectors. 

It was good work, profitable and satisfying and, most of the time, fun. But it was not without its perils. During that last sea battle against the Chantry galleons, fire whipping in the sails and the roar of the waves and sea around them, salt water sloshing in through the holes in the hull and sailors screaming orders and boarders swarming up over the sides -- 

In that moment Anders said _yes_   to Hawke over the clanging clamor of repelling the boarders, and as the two ships maneuvered around the open sea for a final pass and Captain Isabela had two consecutive minutes of breathing time, she'd read out the ceremony and pronounced them wed. 

So that was done. But it was too abrupt, too hectic, too anticlimactic to serve as a proper wedding. Isabela had been delighted at their long-delayed nuptials, and once the battle was done and they'd limped away with their prize she had headed for a safe cove she knew, dropped anchor, and ordered the crew and passengers scattered to all corners to prepare for the party. 

Now as the sun sank across the water the pretty little bay had been transformed. A large pit had been dug and lined with rocks for the roast, a whole wild pig that Fenris had slain in the forest earlier. It had taken three burly sailors to carry it all back to the boat. The meat would be supplemented by fresh fruit gathered from the trees and fish caught in the calm shelter of the bay, liberally flavored and supplemented by the supply of island rum Isabela had dug up from an underground cache. 

Rocks and logs had been arranged into seats and benches, and at the edge of the beach they had set up a flowered canopy: Merrill had helped gather the flowers and weave them into something that would actually hold together, brilliant against the bleached white canvas of the spare sail. Vines grew at unnatural speed, lashing the frames together and sprouting small shy flowers of their own to add their beauty. 

Aside from the happy couple there was the ship's captain -- of course -- and her salty crew, as well as the two elven passengers that had chosen to accompany them on their mad quest. They also had, in the past few weeks, a Grey Warden. The Hero of Ferelden herself had given Carver Hawke an assignment to accompany his brother the former Champion of Kirkwall on his travels, and if the excuse was flimsy, the company was welcome. 

Then there were the islanders themselves, a small group of Neromian-descended people who would have managed a comfortable living off the island even without the intermittent visitors of smugglers. With them, they had established a tiny but thriving trading village, and for a reasonable amount of coin managed to supply whatever luxuries the wedding was lacking (as well as bored, entertainment-hungry bodies to fill out the audience.)

As the sun sank towards the horizon and the preparations neared completion, the two grooms sat on a shady bench and watched the scene. Staves rested against the back of the bench, near to hand, but neither of them had any true reason to fear an attack. Not here, not now, not surrounded by so many allies. 

"I almost hate to ask," Hawke said, breaking the -- not silence, not with all the cheerful clamor going on down the beach, but -- peaceful moment. His hand squeezed Anders', resting between their thighs. "Because I'm afraid you might change your mind again but -- why?" 

"Hmm?" Anders said, rousing out of his thoughts. He turned to look at Hawke, marveling all over again at how the long afternoon light pours over him like honey, seeming at this new angle to change every feature anew. So much beauty, in the world of mortals, a part of him still marvels. "Why what?" 

"Why say yes." Hawke met his gaze squarely. "For so long you didn't want -- well, you weren't sure about getting married. And if you weren't sure, I didn't want to push. But you seem sure now." 

"I am," Anders assured him sincerely. It was strange, scary, to be a new person -- belong to the family _Hawke_   and not only to himself -- but he didn't intend to back down from it. "It wasn't that I didn't want it. Maker knew, I wanted more than anything to be your husband. It's just… for a long time I felt like it was wrong for me to have that happiness, for me to give myself to you, when so many other mages still didn't have that chance. When I wasn't my own to give." 

"What changed?" 

Anders was silent for a moment, turning to watch over the sea. It was so beautiful from here, he could understand why Isabela loved it, the unparalleled freedom found in the open waves. But it could be as deadly as it was beautiful. The sea had a strength that put all the might of the Chantry to shame, inexorable and crushing as no other force in the world. 

"We were taking on water," Anders said at last. "One more lucky shot from the galleon would have done us in. And at that range -- across that much water -- none of my magic or yours could have landed a hit. If that ship had gone under, then there would have been nothing I could have done, or Justice either, to save us. We could have died then, and I thought -- for the first time, I thought that the Rebellion would go on without us. The cause would go on without me. And I realized in that moment that whether I died in that hour or a hundred years from now, I wanted to live the rest of my life as your husband." 

There was nothing Hawke could do but kiss him then, and why not? They were husbands now, after all. 

 

* * *

 

 

When the food was finally ready, carved and diced and peeled and served onto a motley collection of plates, it took a shower of fireworks on the slowly darkening beach to attract everyone's attention. There was still plenty of light to see by; high torches set up at intervals ringed the canopy and a bonfire of driftwood gave a bright, white light shot with colored sparks as it cracked and sparkled. 

Hawke and Anders were seated at the one table, set perpendicular to the benches with Isabela, Carver and the elves arranged around it. The rest of the crew and the islander guests sat on the makeshift benches, and the bonfire and torches gave an excellent view as Carver Hawke stood up on the bench behind the table and cleared his throat. 

"A toast! Give us a toast to start the night off right!" Isabela cheered him, raising her own bottle of rum in anticipation. 

"But don't make it too long, or we might start without you!" one of the sailors called out. Carver sighed in deep, loud aggravation as the rest of the audience laughed and hooted. 

"I can't believe it," Carver said, voice thick with disgust. The rest of the crowd gradually quieted, attentive, and Carver turned to look at his brother. "I cannot believe that I'm standing up here, giving this speech. 

"There are so many things that are wrong with this I can't even begin to count. Is it because we're on the run from the law, hiding out on an empty beach on the arse end of nowhere?" He shook his head with each point he recounted. "Or is it because both grooms are on the Chantry's Top Ten Most Wanted? Or is it because by all rights I ought to be two continents away, kicking the floor at Weisshaupt? I'll tell you, the number one most unbelievable thing about today is the idea that my brother could actually find someone to get married to." 

Hawke laughed along with the rest of the crowd, although Anders looked faintly offended on his husband's behalf. "Let me tell you," Carver continued, raising his voice over the laughter. "I've known Garrett all my life and he's been a disaster for all of it. Some of my fondest memories are of him getting into some disaster or another. 

"Some of my worst memories are of that too. Like the time he read a book about Antivan bull-baiting and decided he wanted to try it with the neighbor's ox. Nearly got run over by a thousand pounds of furious beef. Or the time he nearly blew up our barn because he thought it would be fun to play 'storm the castle' with the grain silo. I was *in* the silo at the time," he said, radiating the purest brotherly aggravation. "Or the time I walked in on him practicing oral sex on one of Farmer Jaral's prize zucchini --" 

"Maker's TEETH, Carver!" Hawke shouted, and buried his bright red blush behind his hands. 

"Listen here!" Carver yelled over the din. "If I have to have that memory seared into my brain for the rest of my life, so do they!" 

Isabela hooted. "Muchas gracias, little brother!" she called out. 

Carver's expression became more serious as the crowd quieted. "Thirteen times we had to move house from the time I was born till we came to Kirkwall. Thirteen times and nine of them were thanks to Garrett," he said, looking straight at his brother. "Sometimes, looking back, it seems like every big, catastrophic, traumatizing change in my life has been because of him. 

"But I've come to realize that that's just who he is. The man who carries the tempest around with him." Carver gave a rueful smile. "The sort of man who shakes up a room just by walking into it, the sort of man who takes a stand such that when he and the world collide, it's the world that changes." 

He turned to Anders, looking  up at him from his seat beside Hawke. "I never thought I'd find myself saying these words to anyone, magey, but... You and he deserve each other," Carver said gruffly. "Be happy."

The crowd cheered, and Anders smiled as he pulled his new brother-in-law into a hug. After a moment Carver broke the hug, then went to hug his brother instead; that embrace threatened to go on for a long time. 

Fenris stood up next, clearing his throat as all eyes turned to him. His voice resonated under the canopy, smooth and deep, and his expression was nothing but sincere. 

"I never thought I would live to see the two of you wed," he said to Hawke and Anders. "I am not a man of many words, but this occasion deserves the best I have to offer.  _Sic centum annos vivere laete simul."_ Ceremoniously, he poured the contents of his drink into the bonfire, and finished with a nod to them. "May you live a hundred years in happiness." 

The crowd cheered and clapped as he sat down, and Anders was left gaping at the Tevinter elf in amazement. "Did Fenris just sincerely give his blessing to a wedding of two mages?" he whispered to Hawke. "And he didn't burst anything? Should I be worried?" 

Hawke squeezed his hand. "A wedding of two friends," he murmured back. "Whatever his personal feelings, Fenris has always known when to speak and when to hold his peace. He wouldn't be cruel, not on this day." 

While they'd held their whispered conversation, Merrill had clambered up on top of the table, wobbling a little with her face flushed from drink. "Oh, goodness. I don't know what to say," she gasped. "If this were a Dalish wedding and I was the Keeper, I could say the creator's blessing. But this isn't a Dalish wedding, and I'm not the one officiating anyway, so maybe that's not the right thing to do?" 

She turned a dubious frown on them; Hawke gave her his most encouraging smile. Which, given the other circumstances she'd seen it, might not be all that encouraging.  Merrill gave a dainty cough. "But then again, neither you nor Anders could ever do anything the easy way, could you?" she continued. Her face dimpled as she smiled. "Maybe you could use all the help you can get. So here it is. _Mythal'enaste, lasa ghilan. Malas nehn ne halam_." 

Another round of clapping and thigh-slapping as Merrill wobbled down from the table. Carver caught her when she might have stumbled, and the two ended in a clinch that almost rivaled that of the two grooms. Maybe this wedding business would inspire some copycat behavior? Hawke could only hope. 

"All right, listen up!" Isabela had a hearty deckside bellow that commanded the instant attention of everyone present. She stood on the bench, one foot up on the table as she leaned forward. "We've had a toast for Hawke from his little brother. Now let's have one for Anders.  Now, out of all of you I've known Anders for the longest -- I'd even say that I'm the one who's known him  _the most thoroughly --"_  

"Not any more you aren't!" Hawke called out, and it was Anders' turn to bury his face in his hands to hide a blooming blush. The sailors hooted and catcalled, while the rest of the guests laughed. 

Isabela ignored the interruptions. "-- So by that logic it ought to be me," she said. "But I can't very well be the best man  _and_  the priest in vestments at the same time, can I? Fortunately, I have something on my person just for this very occasion!" 

She reached into her cleavage with a flourish, and pulled out a much-folded piece of paper. Hawke frowned at it, wondering if he recognized the stationary. 

Isabela unfolded the paper; it turned into a letter filling up most of both sides of the sheet. "All right, here goes," she announced. "Just imagine that I'm ginger, about two feet closer to the ground, about the same amount of cleavage, and more chest hair."

"Wait, Varric?" Anders said, startled. Hawke put a hand on his shoulder, steadying, as Isabela read out: 

"Anders,

"If you're hearing this, it's because you and Hawke finally went ahead and jumped the cliff together. Maybe literally, knowing you two, I wouldn't be surprised. 

"What can I say? I never was good at writing romance, but I was always a sucker for reading a good one.  But if Isabela is reading this letter it's because I'm not there to see it, and for that I'm sorry. I always hoped your story would have a happy ending, since the two of you have been through so much shit along the way.  

"I'm getting ahead of myself. We're not at the ending yet. We're at a beginning, and you know that means that there's going to be more adventures ahead. 'Adventures' are what we we authors call it when everything is going to shit in a handbasket, but you want to make it sound like a good thing. Hawke pulls trouble like him to a magnet, but I'm not too worried about Hawke.  He's got his friends around him, he's got Andraste's own luck, and at this point I can say with great solemnity that he can survive anything. One thing that's for sure about a good book is that whatever else happens, the hero will survive to the end. 

"But you, Blondie? You're the one I worry about sometimes. You've got a big heart. You've got such a damn big heart and you keep trying to fit the whole world inside it. Sometimes I think you're going to burst for the trying of it. You've got people who care about you, if you'll make room for them. 

"Blondie, you'll change the world someday. With Hawke by your side, I don't doubt you can do it. The only thing I want to know is whether you'll leave a place in that world for yourself. Let people be there for you, if I can't. Let yourself be a person. And on the day this letter is read -- and every day for the rest of your damn lives together -- let yourself be happy. 

"Signed,  
Varric, your friend." 

She lowered the letter. As she climbed back down to sit on the bench, Anders was crying openly. 

He made an effort to steady himself, but his voice was still raw and scratchy when he spoke. "Varric… when did he..." 

He didn't seem to be able to finish, so Isabela filled in for him. "When did he write it? I don't know." She made her voice gentle, more gentle than those who knew her thought she ever could be. "But he handed it to me on the dock right before we set sail. Whatever he wanted to say to you, he wanted to say it then." 

Hawke was crying too, although the tears poured over a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He pulled Anders close, face pressed against his shoulder, hand tangled in blond hair guiding his head back so that he could be thoroughly kissed. 

"All right! That's enough speeches for a lifetime!" Isabela yelled, and traded the letter in for an eating knife. "Let's eat!" 

And they did. There was food, and drink, and more food and more drink until even the hungriest were satiated. There was music, played on instruments brought from the village and sung and clapped by enthusiastic sailors, and there was dancing. There was laughter, and conversation, and more than one couple gave in to the romantic atmosphere and vanished into shadowy corners to have their own private celebration. 

Hawke and Anders remained under the canopy as darkness fell completely, the bonfire burning low and leaving only the torches to light the way. Overhead, the moon was full and close, lighting a dancing path over the sea as the new husbands slow danced across the sandy floor. 

Anders hadn't spoken in a while, and Hawke was… not worried about him, since Anders' eyes and his smile was so brimming with love that there was no room for sorrow left in it; but wondering, all the same. 

"Penny for your thoughts, love," Hawke said, leading Anders in another turn. 

It took another moment for Anders to speak, before he leaned in close and rested his forehead against Hawke's. 

" You cannot possess me for I belong to myself. But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give. You cannot command me, for I am a free person," he said in almost a whisper. "But I shall serve you in those ways you require and the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand." 

Hawke's heart lurched, recognizing the words from a text they had both read together years ago: the transcription of a Chasind wedding vows. Anders had commented at the time that it sounded like a far better set of vows than the Chantry's recitation of obedience and submission, not that the Chantry would have allowed either of them to marry in any case. Still, it felt like something, felt like _more,_   to make them. 

"Well," he said, clearing his throat when the tight band of fierce aching love had loosened a bit. He had to rack his brains a bit to remember the appropriate response, and he thought he might have gotten it a bit wrong, but surely it was the intent that counted. "I pledge to you the first bite from my meat, and the first drink from my cup. I pledge to you my living and dying, equally in your care, and tell no strangers our grievances." 

They hadn't recited the vows at the wedding on the ship; there'd been no time. But now, they had all the time they needed. 

"Sound good to you?" Hawke barely whispered. 

"Yes," Anders said. 

They danced together, under a canopy of flowers and stars, until the moon went down.

 

* * *

 

 

~the end.

**Author's Note:**

> The oaths Hawke and Anders say to each other were borrowed from a post on traditional Celtic wedding vows. Cannot vouch for the accuracy but I really liked the sentiment.
> 
> Merrill's short speech in Elvish basically just means "Blessings of Mythal be upon you, may the two of you find happiness." Again I cannot vouch for its accuracy.


End file.
